Текст книги "In a Bad Way"

Автор книги: Karin Tabke

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Текущая страница: 22 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

Chapter Thirty-nine

Anger snaked through Izzy as she tried to maintain her composure.  “First of all, I’m not a bitch.  Secondly, you should be thanking me for coming to you instead of hawking this video to the Italians in South Beach. Thirdly, I undertook the job with the condition that we meet and in exchange for the video you give me information.  With your reputation preceding you, I had a feeling you might pull something like this, so I didn’t bring it.”

Boris growled and with a nod of his head toward her, indicated that Andre and Maks were to find out.

“Don’t come near me!” she shrieked, momentarily losing her composure.  “I swear, you’ll never see what’s on the drive.”  Her instinct was to shrink back and protect herself, but Boris didn’t respect fear, he respected strength. Izzy pulled herself together and stepped boldly toward Boris, ignoring the two other men.  “I’m good at what I do. I guarantee you, you will be happy to give me what I want in exchange for what’s on the drive.”

“What do you want?” he bit out.

“Information on a dancer named Jasmyn.  She disappeared almost four months ago. I know she was here.  What happened to her?”

Boris’s eyes flickered with recognition the minute she said Alex’s stage name.  His eyes narrowed.  He knew where she was!  “Tell me where she is and I’ll give you the key to the FBI.”

“Remove your clothes,” he commanded.

“What?” she asked nervously, backing away.

“Remove your clothing.”

Oh God.  He was going to rape her. “No.”

“Andre, take her bag and go through it. Maks, help her undress and go through her clothing.”

Izzy stood completely still, trying hard to get a grip on her rising panic.  It was just a naked strip search. Put up against being raped, it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen.  She supposed she should feel grateful, but she didn’t. It was still a violation. Izzy threw her bag at Andre and turned to a smirking Maks. “Keep your damn hands to yourself.”

She undressed quickly, making sure she kept the drive wrapped in her bra, then set it down on the carpet so it wouldn’t be exposed.  While Andre dumped the contents of her bag onto the desk and rifled through it, Maks began to paw through her shoes and clothing. Izzy stood naked and proud as Boris walked around her.  He ran his fingers between her butt cheeks, then through her hair. He pointed to her belly button ring.  “What is that?”

“What does it look like?”

“Is same ring she wears,” Andre said, looking up from the desk.

When Maks bent down to pick up her bra, Izzy raised her hands high and said, “See, nothing under my arms. Or my tits.” The drive tumbled to the floor as Maks stood, and in a smooth move, she stepped on it, the thick carpeting acting as a cushion.  They were so focused on her boobs they didn’t bother to look down.  Dumbass men.

When it was determined her clothes were clean and she wasn’t wearing a wire, Izzy snatched her clothes back. She dropped the jeans to cover the drive while she put her bra and panties on.  Carefully she picked up her jeans feeling for the drive.  Pulling them on, she maneuvered the drive into her back pocket then quickly put her shirt on as she slid her feet back into her shoes.

“Now tell me about Jasmyn,” she demanded.

As the words left her mouth, Miro strode into the room flanked by his two giant bodyguards.  “Wow,” Izzy tsked, shaking her head. “Six big Russians to make sure the one-hundred-and-ten-pound dancer doesn’t hurt them.”

Miro looked past her to Boris, who said, “She’s clean, but no drive.”

“My dear Izzy,” Miro crooned. “I am so disappointed.”

“The drive comes with conditions, conditions Boris refuses to accept.”

“What conditions?” Miro asked.

“Boris tells me what happened to Jasmyn, I give him the drive.”

Boris chuckled, the sound dark and demonic.  “We do not negotiate with strippers.  You will give me the drive because I asked for it.”

Izzy shook her head, standing her ground. “In America, when you give someone your word it means something.” She turned to Miro. “Mr. Sorlov said he would give me the information in exchange for the drive.”

Miro leaned against the edge of the desk and contemplated her statement.  “We are not American.”

“But I am. And we’re in America.”

“Show us the video.  If it is golden as you claim, I will give the information you ask for,” Boris said.

Miro shot him a look and Izzy wasn’t sure what it meant.  Not taking any chances, she said, “Deal!” Then she dug into her back pocket, retrieved the drive, and handed it over to Boris.

Boris looked at Maks with contempt.  Deliberately, he walked around his desk and slapped Maks hard across the face.

“How did you miss this when you checked her clothing?”

Maks rubbed his flaming cheek.  “It wasn’t there, when I checked.”

Boris slapped him again, this one more violent than the first. “If you had stopped looking at her tits you would have found it.”  Grasping Maks by the face, he shoved him away in disgust.

“You are useless to me.”

Dismissing his hapless nephew, Boris inserted the drive into the laptop on his desk, but the images sprang up on the flat screens surrounding the room. There in living color was Flynn snorting coke off her boobs.

Izzy’s skin warmed when she watched him smiling at her, and his fingers linger on her body.  Her heart thumped wildly in her chest and she prayed that they would be given the chance to build something together.

Miro did the slow clap.  Boris was beaming.

“Bravo, Izzy, Bravo,” Miro said.  “Most ingenious.”

She didn’t like the way he said it, as if he knew it was a setup. “Tell me about Jasmyn,” she said to Boris, who looked to Miro for the okay.  The icy Russian nodded.

“She was sold,” Boris said.

Oh, please God, no. Her worst fears were realized.  Nausea roiled through her, the urge to retch so strong, Izzy covered her mouth forcing the bile down. “Sold?  Sold how, to whom?”

“I don’t know the name of client, he was quite adamant about remaining anonymous,” he said, shrugging off her questions.

Disbelieving him, Izzy pushed. “Surely you vet your ‘clients.’ ”

Boris speared her with a glare. “We vet cold hard cash.  Who it comes from is irrelevant.”

“You’re lying to me.” Frantically, she looked to Andre, who refused to make eye contact, and then to Miro.  “Please, she’s my sister. She needs me.”

“Get me another video,” Boris said, “I’ll give you the name of the client that referred him.”

“That wasn’t the deal!” Izzy cried. She had lost her leverage the moment she handed over the drive.  Turning to Miro, she pleaded.  “Please, Mr. Bushnik, make him to tell me where she is.  I just want my sister back.  I won’t tell anyone what happened to her.”

Ignoring her plea, Miro walked over to the laptop, pulled the drive, and pocketed it.

“That belongs to me,” Boris said.

“All that is yours is because of my efforts,” Miro replied coolly.

Miro turned slowly and looked at Izzy.  His arctic eyes shone with a glacial chill. “Jasmyn was special.  Just like you, Izzy. A rare jewel in a pile of rocks.”  He moved to the bar and poured himself a drink.  “We had a full house here that night. Bidders from all over the country. A dark, scarred, tattooed man outbid them all for her.”

Miro smiled and tossed down his drink.  “That was that.”

“Bidders? An auction?  For what?  Like a prostitute?”

“For as long as the buyer wishes to own his newly purchased property.”

Izzy’s jaw dropped at his casual demeanor. “You sold my sister to another human being?  Like a slave?” She hoped the guys were getting all of this because she wanted to kill these guys.  Who did they think were taking someone against their will and selling them?

Miro nodded. “I was tempted to keep her for myself, but . . .” He shrugged.  “There was a man who wanted her more.”  He raised his empty glass to her. “As I said, Jasmyn was spectacular.  I have never seen men so determined to outbid one another for a woman.”

“Why did you tell me this?” she asked, fearing the answer.

“Even if Boris is not a man of his word, I am. It is your part of the bargain. So now you know.  Not that it matters, because Jasmyn is gone to parts unknown.” He checked his shiny gold wristwatch. “In two hours we depart for mother Russia.”  He smiled, the gesture frosting his eyes.  “It is your choice whether you voluntarily accompany me as my guest or are dragged from here like a slave as your sister was, four months ago.”

Every hair on Izzy’s body spiked. The nausea roiled higher. She’d kill herself before she’d leave with Bushnik.

“Miro, think of the bigger picture,” Boris said, stepping toward him.  “She’s worth three times her weight in gold if she stays here and makes more videos.”

With no pause to consider Boris’s plea, Miro said, “Boris, sit down and shut up.  This is my decision and mine alone.”

“You’re only thinking of yourself, not the organization. What do you always tell me: Look ahead five years!” Boris spewed. “No woman is worth what you are willing to sacrifice!”

Miro graced Boris with a chilling smile. “It’s done.”

“Nyet!”

The tension level in the room shot through the roof.  One small step at a time, Izzy began to back away. She prayed they would start fighting and she could slip unseen out of the room.  “I need that vodka now,” she said, hoping the guys heard her code word for get me the hell out of here!

Miro shook his head, slid his hand into his suit jacket, withdrew a gun with a long silencer, and shot Boris twice in the chest.

Izzy screamed. Maks pulled a gun and before he could level it at Miro, he was shot where he stood. Shocked, Maks grabbed his chest, stumbled backward, and slumped to the floor. Miro looked at Andre, who had not moved.

“You are smarter than you look, Andre,” he said.

Andre’s dark eyes looked to where Boris lay. “Boris is fool.”

“Congratulations, my giant friend, you have just replaced Boris at the club.”  Miro poured himself another drink and thoughtfully sipped it. “I take seventy-five percent gross from the house, the rest is yours.”

Izzy’s stomach tightened as she stared at Boris’s bloody body and lifeless face.  Maks had fallen to the side of the desk and all she could see was the scuffed bottoms of his shoes.

Bushnik’s two men stoically flanked him.  When she turned horrified eyes to Andre, his narrowed as if telling her to keep cool.  Slight as it was, it was his only tell.

“I’m not going to Russia with you,” Izzy whispered, afraid that if she said it too loudly, he’d shoot her, too.

Bushnik laughed, finished his drink, set the glass on the desk, and smiled at her.  “Izzy does not befit a woman of your beauty.  What is your given name?”

“Isadora,” she choked.

“Ah, meaning ‘a gift’. A most befitting name.”  He extended his arm to her.  “Come, Isadora, we have a long flight ahead of us, and I’d like some dinner first.”

“I can’t just leave!” she said, trying to stall him.  “I have family.  A job.  School and bills to pay and a crazy FBI Agent stalker who will hunt you down!”

Bushnik’s eyes narrowed.  “Take my hand now.”

Wanting to live a few minutes more, Izzy took it.  When she did, he smiled and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm.  “I have a lovely villa overlooking the river in St. Petersburg I think you will find most comfortable, Isadora.”

“I don’t like water or villas.”

As the two thugs preceded them, opening the double doors, Bushnik purred.  “I think you will come to love all things Russian, my precious gift.”

As they entered the hallway, Izzy fought down the bile rising in her throat and the urge to scream at the top of her lungs. Please, Flynn, I hope you’re listening.

As they approached the landing, Izzy realized it was tomb quiet.  Had Flynn lost her?  Had her team as well?

“Which airport are we going to?” she asked nervously.

“A private one,” Bushnik answered, pulling her close.  “My aircraft is large with a sumptuous bedroom suite. I expect we shall spend most of the flight there as I teach you Russian.” He chuckled at his joke.

Izzy’s knees buckled.

Chapter Forty

The terror in Isa’s voice would have enraged most men, causing them to charge like a fireman into a burning house.  It had the opposite effect on Flynn.  It calmed him.  Gave him the laser focus he needed to destroy the threat and retrieve the single most important thing in his life. The one thing he’d gladly walk into a bullet for.

All his years of training had prepared him for this moment.  Failure was not an option.

He drove past the residence, noting the beefy bald driver on the porch and the sleek black town car out front. Pulling over, three houses up, he advised the task force, “Three-story red brick with the town car.”

“Hold your position until backup are on scene! I repeat, hold your position!” Justin ordered.

There was no time to wait, Bushnik would be coming out the front door with Pink any minute and once they left the house, it would be more difficult to control the situation.  Flynn was going in.

He tucked the cell into his breast pocket without responding, but kept the ear buds in place, continuing to receive critical intel via Pink’s transmissions.  Flynn knew she was terrified, he wished there was a way to calm her without giving his position away but that wasn’t possible.

Turning off the SUV, Flynn reached up and turned the dome light switch off.  He opened the car door, got out, and then quietly eased the door almost closed. Crouching, he moved around to the front of the vehicle on the sidewalk side and observed the house. The driver hadn’t moved.

Maintaining a low profile, Flynn hugged the neatly manicured hedges and fences of the quiet residential street, careful not to trip over the few newspapers littering the sidewalk as he made his way just in front of Boris’s home. The big driver held the high ground on the small porch atop a wide stairway. Flynn quickly devised a little neighborhood shock-and-awe plan.

Backpedaling, he retrieved one of the newspapers, and then advanced on the brick house. Tossing the paper to the far side of Boris’s yard, Flynn momentarily distracted the driver’s gaze and rushed the porch. Taking the steps two at a time, Flynn ascended to the next to last step as the man spun to meet him and lunged forward. Lowering his shoulder and propelling himself forward, Flynn collided with the hefty man mid-thigh and, thrusting upward, flipped him over his back and onto the stairs. He could hear the thuds as the body rolled down to the sidewalk behind him.

Grimacing, Flynn rotated his banged-up shoulder as he turned to observe the still body of the driver sprawled out cold across the pavement below. The cavalry rounded the corner. There was no time to wait.

Pulling his pistol from his waist holster, Flynn crouched and slowly opened the front door.

He was immediately met with gunfire.  Dropping to the floor, Flynn rolled, shooting one of Bushnik’s bodyguards, and then the other.

Isa’s screams alerted him to her position. Looking past the still bodies, down the hallway next to the staircase, he saw Bushnik dragging her, kicking and screaming, behind him.

“Bushnik!” Flynn yelled, standing and rushing past the dead guards, giving chase. “Let her go and I let you go!”

The Russian moved faster, dragging Pink with him. Flynn hurried after them. As he reached the end of the hall, the unmistakable sound of automatic machinegun fire erupted, bullets tearing into the wood and plaster of the wall and molding to Flynn’s right.

Ducking back around the edge of the stairway, Flynn waited for Bushnik to either reload or keep moving.

“Let me go, you Russian asshole!” Pink screamed.  “Or I’m going to bring hell down on you!”

Gun at the ready, finger on the trigger, Flynn flew down the now-empty hall and rounded the corner, only to find himself alone in an unlit kitchen.

“Bushnik have no place to go now,” Andre the Giant said from behind Flynn.

Flynn spun around so quickly, he slammed into the wall behind him. Arms extended in a double grip, he looked down the barrel at the giant Russian.

“Hands up, now! Let me see your hands!” Flynn commanded.

“No gun,” Andre said, lifting his hands for Flynn to see. The giant looked past him to the doorway.

“How do you know Bushnik has no way out?” Flynn asked.

Andre casually stepped past Flynn and led him through the dark kitchen to the back door, where he looked out. “Is big yard, but no way out. Stairs to basement under porch. Basement  walled off. No out. I think Bushnik go there, da?” Andre’s meaty paw crossed in front of Flynn as he motioned to the door.

“Why should I trust you?”  Flynn asked, not lowering his gun.

“Bushnik kill Boris.  Boris was friend.” His eyes narrowed.  “I like your Pink lady, too.”

“Put your hands on top of your head and slowly walk back to the front door. Don’t open the door. Wait for the cops to do it and follow their orders. Do whatever they say or they’ll shoot you,” Flynn directed.

“Sure,” Andre said, placing his hands on top of his head and slowly padded his way out of the kitchen.

Flynn peered into the backyard through the curtains of the window next to the door as he listened for any clues from Pink. She was eerily silent. Dropping down, he slowly opened the door and listened. It was quiet. Deadly quiet. Unlacing his shoes, he removed them and set them aside as he crept onto the porch. Scanning left, then right, then left again, he made his way out.

The enclosed backyard was large with high shrubs bordering the walls and a large spruce tree dead center. Decorative benches and potted plants punctuated the area. Flynn noted the height of the walls and realized Andre had been right. With no adequate hiding place in the yard, Bushnik would have taken Pink down the basement stairwell.

Flynn descended the stairs and looked for the basement access. Locating the well, he moved into position and took a quick peek. Moving back to safety, he processed what he’d seen in the darkness. A steep stairwell leading to a door.

Another swift glance confirmed his initial assessment. Gun first, Flynn entered the stairwell and slowly took it one silent step at a time.

Above him in the distance, Flynn heard the muffled order “Get down on your knees!” being shouted at Andre.

Reaching the bottom of the damp stairwell, Flynn noted the broken windowpane and wished he had left his shoes on. In a crouch position, he inched the door open and scanned what he could of the expansive room. Old furniture, the furnace, and stacked cardboard boxes competed for space. Too many hiding places.

Once again, motionless, he listened.

Only the low hum of the furnace disturbed the silence.

Moving to the hinged side of the door, avoiding the broken shards of glass, Flynn entered the room.

He waited momentarily, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The LED control panel of the furnace gave off an eerie illumination that helped him navigate the room.

“I have the girl,” Bushink abruptly announced, deep in the darkness. “I will not hesitate to kill her.”

Moving sideways to slide behind a large armoire, Flynn called back, “There’s no way out, Bushnik. Give it up while you still can. There’s no reason for anyone, yourself included, to die tonight.”

As he spoke, Flynn covertly adjusted his position to the other side of the armoire. He could just hear Bushnik and Pink’s last movement to the right of him under the noise of his reply.

Pink’s muffled warning under Bushnik’s hand was enough to clue Flynn in that Bushnik was moving them closer, into the dim light of the furnace to his right.

“I don’t plan on dying tonight, Special Agent.” The Russian laughed arrogantly and asked, “Can you live with the death of your girl?”

The soles of Bushnik’s shoes and Pink’s heels shuffled closer to the furnace. Flynn could barely make out the top of the Russian’s head. Just a few more feet and he would be able to see them more clearly.  And take his shot.  Flynn raised his weapon, using both hands for optimal control, aimed it toward the furnace, and waited.

Long minutes dragged out.  The only sound was his heartbeat in his ears and Pink’s muffled cries.

He needed a distraction. Something to divert their attention from his position, while pushing Bushnik into the light. His eyes fully adjusted now, Flynn could better make out his surroundings.

He quietly opened the flaps of a nearby carton and reached inside. Books! Perfect. Lifting one from the box, he placed it on the floor, and then slid it across the room to his left.

Bushnik moved away from the sound and into the light, where Flynn could clearly see that Pink was being held in front of the bastard as a human shield. Bushnik’s left hand was wrapped around her mouth, and her body was pressed against him by his forearm and elbow across her chest.

His gun hand was extended over Pink’s right shoulder, gripping an AK as he moved it from left to right and back again, waiting for an opportunity to light Flynn up.

With Pink covered as she was, and the light quality poor, it was impossible for Flynn to take a shot.

Heavy footsteps moved across the kitchen floor above. Andre must have pointed the team in his direction.

Time had become critical. The open door and the stairwell behind it were a fatal kill zone from Bushnik’s position. Any returned fire would hit Pink first.

Leaping to his feet, Flynn took a two-handed grip on his gun and aiming at the Russian, shouted, “It’s over, Bushnik! Let her go, now!”

Unflappable, Bushink shook his head. “Drop your gun or I kill her first, you second.” The Russian was cool, calm, and collected. Flynn was anything but.

“No deal. Give it up.”

“Then say good bye to your lovely gift.”

Flynn could barely make out Pink’s shoulder dipping from the sudden increased pressure of Bushnik’s extended arm.

Stay still, baby!

Unexpectedly, she bit the hand over her mouth and when Bushnik instinctively pulled it away, freeing her arms, she reached up with both hands, her left pushing the gun away while her right grasped Bushnik’s forearm. The gun exploded and the muzzle flash temporarily blinded Flynn. Then Flynn heard the telltale sound of metal clicking repeatedly on metal: Bushnik’s gun was jammed.

Blinking, trying to focus, Flynn started for Isa. With both of her hands now firmly gripping Bushnik’s extended arm, Pink gave it a sharp downward yank atop her shoulder. The snap of bone followed by Bushnik’s scream of pain was the sweetest sound Flynn had heard that day.

Isa shoved the screaming Russian away from her, running straight to Flynn, who quickly passed her off in the direction of the door as the team stormed down the stairs.

Flynn strode toward the furious, disabled Russian. Bushnik dropped the AK and went for the gun tucked in his waistband. Flynn kicked it out of his hand, then kicked him in the chest, forcing him back into the wall, which he hit with a loud thud and a curse.

“Hands over your head and down on your knees.”

Without a word, Bushnik attempted to comply. But his right arm hung at an unnatural angle and it was impossible. “On your stomach. Arms and legs spread,” Flynn commanded.

The Russian cursed loudly in his native tongue as he slowly complied. Flynn took great satisfaction in the fact that the Russian groaned loudly in pain as he assumed the position.

“You should have taken that tiny dancer at her word when she said she’d bring hell down on you,” Flynn said, shaking his head, amazed by her act.

“Only I know where Jasmyn is.  And I will never tell,” Bushnik promised.

Flynn squatted down in front of him and said, “If you know what’s good for you, Miroslav, you’ll tell me right now where she is.”

“What is good for me is my lawyer.”

“You don’t have the same rights as me, Bushnik,” Flynn said, then nodded to Maddox who moved past Flynn and with no compassion for the man’s broken arm, hooked him up.

When Flynn turned around, he found Justin trying unsuccessfully to keep Pink from heading back into the fray.

“Let me go to him, Justin!” she shrieked, shoving at him.

“Isa,” Flynn said softly.

She turned and screamed his name, tearing herself loose from Justin and catapulting her body into his.

He caught her to him, hugging her tightly.

“Thank God!” she cried, wrapping her arms around him as his tightened around her.

“It’s over, baby.  All over.  You’re safe,” he whispered, unable to get her body close enough to his.  “Never gonna let you go,” he rasped.  “Never gonna let you go.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks.  Flynn bent his head and kissed them away, trying hard to keep the sting of moisture in his eyes from showing.

“Flynn,” she sobbed.  “I was so afraid I was never going to see you again.  That I was going to be gone forever, and Bushnik’s thugs were going to kill you, and—” She kissed him, their tears mingling. “I don’t ever want to lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said trying to soothe her fears.

“Did he tell you where Alex is?” she asked, hope lighting up her face.

Shaking his head, Flynn said, “No, but once he understands he’s never leaving this country, he’ll offer information to knock years off his sentence.”  He kissed her forehead and hugged her close.  “I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, baby, but know Justin won’t go easy on him.  And we’re still looking. We’ll never stop looking.”

“I need to speak to my father,” she said against his chest. “I want to look him in the eye when he tells me he doesn’t know what happened to her.  I want to see how he reacts, because I have this bad feeling he’s somehow involved in all of this.”

“We’ll do it together.”

Isa looked up at him, love beaming in her eyes.  “I was hoping you would say that.”

“You’re going to have a hard time getting rid of me.”

Her lips broke into a bright smile.  “I was hoping you would say that too.”

Flynn hugged her tightly to his chest.  Adrenaline pumped through his body.  That had been too damn close.

“I’m proud of you, baby, you kept your cool, gave us good info so we could keep you in our sights, and then broke Bushnik down.” He pulled away and looked down at her.  “Where did you learn that over the shoulder move?”

“Kick boxing,” she said like it was no big deal.

“You really are a bad ass.”

Raising her lips to his, she said, “Don’t you forget it.”